


Just How This Would End

by GotTheSilver



Category: My So-Called Life
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Female Friendship, Post-Series, Unresolved Romantic Tension, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8882854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: post series*
  “I finished the year,” Jordan says as she has her hand on the door handle.

  “What?”

  “The school year.  I wouldn’t—without you, I guess, like, I’d be repeating again, so.  Thank you.”

  “Yeah,” Angela says around the lump in her throat.  “Sure.  Whatever.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Major](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Major/gifts).



> This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy it. Have a wonderful Yuletide!

They don’t speak after Angela tells him she knows Brian wrote the letter. It’s just silence in the car and Jordan staring out of the car window until Angela shakes her head. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says. “I don’t—I never needed—”

“Yeah,” Jordan says softly, not looking at her. “You did. But I couldn’t.”

“So what, you just, I don’t know, _paid_ Brian to do that? Do you even—” Angela breaks off. “I didn’t want this,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “Take me home.”

“You want to go home? I thought you—”

“Fine, okay, I’ll walk,” Angela says, her hands shaking as she fumbles with the seat belt, but before she can get it unbuckled, Jordan’s started the car. It’s a short drive, and Jordan pulls the car in right outside her house.

“I finished the year,” Jordan says as she has her hand on the door handle.

“What?”

“The school year. I wouldn’t—without you, I guess, like, I’d be repeating again, so. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Angela says around the lump in her throat. “Sure. Whatever.”

*

Summer passes, Angela doesn’t hear from Jordan. Doesn’t hear from anyone, really, except Rickie, but he’s at drama camp for most of the time. She’s reduced to hanging around the house, avoiding the looks her mom keeps sending her, as if she’s personally making her life harder by existing. They were going to take a trip with her grandparents, but when mom called them and told them about the restaurant, about Hallie, they got into a fight. Angela’s not entirely sure what happened, but her dad spends more time there than he does at home now, and her mom keeps finding projects to occupy her time with.

It’s a pretty miserable summer, even Danielle has more of a social life than Angela does.

Mostly, Angela hides in her room, and whatever, this year has been a series of catastrophes and she’s allowed to want to vanish for a while.

All too soon, though, the leaves start changing colour, her mom is making noises about shopping for school and it’s time for junior year to start.

*

“So what, like, happened with Jordan?” Sharon asks in the bathroom, playing with her hair and glancing over at Angela in the mirror.

“If I tell you, are you gonna tell Rayanne?”

“Angela, come on.” Sharon pulls a scrunchie from her bag and ties her hair up, leaving strands hanging down around her face. “You know I wouldn’t.”

Playing with the edge of her plaid shirt, Angela shrugs. “It’s not like I saw you at all this summer, so I guess you were with her. Like, it’s fine if you want to be her friend more than you want to be my friend—” Angela stops talking when Sharon turns and rests both her hands on Angela’s shoulders.

“Stop talking,” Sharon says before letting go. “Seriously, you’re being ridiculous. You know my mom made my dad and I join her on one of those weird hippie walk things. She’s obsessed with him staying healthy and, lucky me, I get to join in. Yes, I saw Rayanne, but I didn’t, like, choose her over you. She was around, you never returned my calls. I figured—I don’t know, that you were depressed over Jordan or whatever.”

“I wasn’t depressed,” Angela says, even though maybe, possibly, she was. She’s not sure if it counted as being depressed, if maybe depression isn’t something she should be allowed to claim. It was just a boy, and okay, it felt like the world was ending, but her life wasn’t over. Not really. “I just, I didn’t really feel like seeing anyone, and things are weird at home, so I kind of—wallowed. A lot.” Leaning against the sink, Angela shrugs. “I don’t care if you’re friends with Rayanne, I don’t. Does she talk about me?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“Tell you what, you eat lunch with me and tell me what happened with Jordan, and I’ll tell you if Rayanne talks about you.”

Angela ducks her head, hair falling in front of her face, it’s still red, kind of. She doesn’t want to go back to blonde, but the red reminds her of Rayanne, reminds her of how she so easily fell into a friendship with her, how Rayanne encouraged her to go after Jordan and—. Maybe she should let it grow out.

*

“Is she in today?” Angela asks Rickie in Chemistry, keeping her voice low. “I mean, I don’t care, but I’m having lunch with Sharon so if you—”

“She and Amber went to a Dead show a few nights ago,” Rickie says quietly. “She’s not gonna be in until at least tomorrow.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

“Why is Jordan staring at you?” Rickie asks after a moment. “I mean, Brian is as well, but he always stares at you. Jordan Catalano being in class on the first day of the year is weird enough, but—”

“I told him I knew,” Angela says. “That Brian wrote the letter. So that’s why we’re not, y’know, together. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.” Rickie fiddles with the wrinkled pages of his Chemistry book. “It’s just—you forgave him for sleeping with Rayanne, but you won’t forgive him for this? And not that he deserves it, like, I get he doesn’t, for either of those things, but—”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Angela interrupts, dragging a hand through her hair. “I haven’t, really, forgiven him for what he did with Rayanne, like. I thought I had, but then I haven’t forgiven her, and I guess it makes me a hypocrite if I forgive him and not her?”

“It makes you human,” Rickie says. “She misses you.”

Angela nods, before going back to her notes, her head swimming; part of her wants to run out of the room and hide in the bathroom, just to get away from the looks that Jordan, Brian, and Rickie are sending her. Like, she doesn’t have all the answers, at all, and it’s so unfair that it’s like they all think she should.

She misses Rayanne as well. It crushed her, like beyond anything she’d ever felt before, knowing that Jordan and Rayanne had done what they did, and she gets they were drunk, that it was a stupid mistake, but she doesn’t know how to get past it.

*

“Well, I knew it couldn’t be Jordan who wrote the letter,” Sharon says at lunch. They’re outside while it’s still warm enough to escape the cafeteria, sitting on the grass by the football field, and Angela kind of wants to call Sharon out on the whole Kyle thing, but it seems like a lot of effort.

“It’s not like he doesn’t—I mean, I know he has _some_ feelings about me, but he has trouble with words.”

“Angela, he slept with your best friend and you forgave him, the least he could do is actually tell you how he feels.”

“Yeah.” Angela bits into a fry and makes a face. “This is gross,” she says. “I can’t believe my mom stopped making me lunch.”

“Nice change of subject,” Sharon says, holding her bag of chips open at Angela. “Take some.”

“Thanks,” Angela says, taking a handful. “Like, he didn’t have to do that. I didn’t need him to do that, if he wanted to say sorry, then he could’ve just said sorry. He didn’t have to lie.”

“You know I’m not Jordan’s biggest fan, I mean, I’d happily kick him in the crotch if you wanted me to, but—” Sharon breaks off, and it looks like she doesn’t want to say what she’s about to say. “He kind of does care about you. So does Rayanne. They did a terrible thing, but that didn’t change how much they love you.”

“So she does talk about me.”

“Yes, Angela, she talks about you. You’re still the centre of everyone’s universe, are you happy?”

Angela throws a chip at Sharon and laughs. She doesn’t remember the last time she laughed.

*

School carries on, it doesn’t get any better, but it doesn’t get any worse, which Angela guesses is the best she can ask for. The only people she really talks to are Sharon and Rickie, but it’s not like she’s fighting with Rayanne, Jordan, or Brian, they’re just there, like ghosts of people she once knew, people she doesn’t know how to talk to anymore.

But, then, she’s paired up with Rayanne in English and there’s no way out of it. “If you screw my grade, then—”

“Relax,” Rayanne says, unwrapping a tootsie pop and sticking it in her mouth. “I won’t ruin your perfect future.”

“That’s not—” Angela huffs out a breath. “Whatever. Do you want to come to my house to work on this?”

“Patty gonna let me through the door?”

“She’ll probably make you dinner,” Angela says. “She’s not—things haven’t been right at home.”

“Not so perfect anymore, then?”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry,” Rayanne says quietly before looking up from her hands and biting her lip. “I am, y’know. Sorry.”

Angela taps her pen against her notebook. “I know. You and Jordan are both really sorry. For sleeping together, Jordan’s sorry for lying to me, everyone’s really sorry.”

“Angela—”

“You know the worst part?” Angela ignores Rayanne and carries on. “It’s that I can’t stop caring about either of you.”

“Do you want to?”

Angela meets Rayanne’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

After class, Rayanne follows Angela to her locker, and Angela doesn’t even know if she minds. Rickie approaches them tentatively, as if he’s gonna spook them, and Angela hides a smile when Rayanne rolls her eyes and kisses Rickie on the cheek.

“What’s going on?” Rickie asks, looking between them.

“We’re working on it,” Angela says, catching a glimpse of Jordan out of the corner of her eye. He’s moving slower than usual, looking over at his friends before turning and going the other way. “Hey, have you seen Jordan today?”

Rickie shakes his head. “Not really, why?”

“Nothing, he just—” Angela looks around, trying to spot him in the hallway. “He avoided seeing his friends.”

“If I were friends with those assholes, I’d avoid them too,” Rayanne says. “I gotta meet Tino, is it still okay if I come over tonight?”

“Yeah, sure,” Angela says before Rayanne runs off. “Are you sure you haven’t seen him?”

“I’m definitely sure I haven’t seen Jordan Catalano today,” Rickie says. “Did we go back in time to last year? What’s with you and Rayanne?”

“They—I don’t know, English paired us together and it’s so exhausting being angry with her, Rickie, it really is.”

“Hey, I’m not judging,” Rickie says, tugging on a strand of Angela’s hair. “I want you to be sure, that’s all.”

“Thanks, Rickie.”

*

Jordan doesn’t leave her mind, as much as she wants him to, he’s constantly there, like before when she’d just see him in the halls, occasionally in class; it’s worse now, because now Angela knows what his lips feel like against hers, how his eyes get super bright when he starts talking about his car, and how he always, always grabs at whatever food is around because he doesn’t know when he’ll get to eat again.

It’s complicated and messy and Angela hates it. Lately, there’s something different about the way Jordan moves, like he’s being careful not to bump into people, and Angela wants to stop him, to try and get him to talk, but—maybe she doesn’t have that right anymore. Ever since the letter, she doesn’t know what to say to him; it’s not the fact that he got Brian to write it, not really, it’s that he lied, that he thought that after the whole thing with them not sleeping together, and then him sleeping with Rayanne, that she’d be okay with a regurgitated love letter. And maybe, before, she would have been. But not now.

Angela doesn’t know if she’s even allowed to call him her friend anymore. She guesses not, because friends are probably people who have exchanged more than a few words and looks in the last four months. So, she leaves him alone, ignores the way he gets steadily more withdrawn, how he acts like more of an idiot in class, how he’s on the verge of being kicked out again. It’s not her problem. It’s not.

That changes the day he shows up with a black eye.

*

“Rickie, you’ll see Jordan next period, right?” Angela asks while they’re in the bathroom. She doesn’t know exactly what she’s going to do, but she has to do _something_. Fiddling with the ends of her sleeves, she meets Rickie’s eyes in the mirror. “What?”

“Why are you getting involved?”

“I’m not.”

“Uh huh,” Rickie says, pocketing his eyeliner. “Sure. What do you want me to tell him?”

“Just—” Angela breaks off and rummages around in her bag for paper, finding some, she quickly scribbles a note and folds it in half, handing it to Rickie. “Give him this.”

Rickie pauses before leaning in and kissing her cheek. “Okay,” he says quietly. “I’ll give it to him. Y’know, if he shows up.”

Angela spends next period and the one after that wondering if she’s made a mistake, if she’s overstepped the boundaries she’s put in place with Jordan and he’s just not going to show. It was probably dumb to ask him to meet her in the boiler room, like, if anything he’s going to avoid her just to make a point. Maybe, anyway.

It takes her ten minutes to even build up the courage to slip through the door and down the staircase that leads to the boiler room; Jordan’s not there yet, so she hops up on a ledge and waits, her bag on her lap.

“Angela?”

“Yeah,” she says. “I mean. Hi.”

Jordan’s looking at her like he wants to bolt, and she can’t blame him for that. “What do you—why did you ask me here?”

“What happened to your eye?”

“Angela, what—” Jordan closes his mouth and folds his arms across his chest. “Why do you care?”

That stings, more than Angela would like to admit, and she awkwardly lifts her shoulders in a shrug. “I care.”

“I don’t need you to.”

Angela screws up her face and shakes her head. “So you’re just going to, what, keep being hit until you die?” Getting down from the ledge, she closes the gap between them and reaches up, pushing the strands of his hair back from his face. Jordan’s eyes are lowered, not looking at her, but he doesn’t stop her from touching him and, yeah, maybe she’s pushing this, but he’s never come to school with a visible injury before. “Jordan,” she says quietly, fingers brushing against his cheek as she lowers her hand. “What happened?”

“My dad,” he says, taking a step back. “Passing the school year, he thought I was gettin’ ideas above my station.”

“So he hit you? Jordan, that’s not—”

“I know it’s not okay,” Jordan says, exasperation colouring his voice. “I left, last night, after—” he breaks off and waves a hand at his face. “It’s not your problem, Angela.”

“Where are you staying?” Angela asks, ignoring Jordan.

“With Tino.” Jordan sticks his hands in his pockets. “I get it’s not like, your perfect family or whatever, but I’m okay, and we broke up, right? So you don’t have to worry about me.”

Angela crosses her arms across her chest. “It’s not like I stopped caring about you,” she says. “I just—I didn’t know what to do about the letter.”

“Yeah.” Jordan turns to leave, but pauses halfway up the stairs. “If it means anything, then—I meant it. I got him to write it, but I meant it.”

Angela doesn’t know what to say to that, and Jordan’s gone before she can find any words.

*

“So, you and Jordan in the boiler room again?” Sharon asks after school. They’re in Angela’s room, hiding from her mom who is on a mission to decoupage everything in her eyeline.

“That’s not—it wasn’t what you think.” Angela pauses, tapping her pencil against her textbook. “Does everyone know?”

“Everyone who was in the hall when you went in and then when Jordan went in. And, y’know, all of their friends, and all their friends and—” Sharon’s cut off by Angela throwing her pencil at her. “What happened, if you weren’t, y’know?”

Angela lays down, resting her head on her textbook. “I don’t know,” she says, turning her head to look at Sharon. “Have you noticed that he’s hurt all the time lately?”

“Yeah.” Sharon bites her bottom lip. “I thought he was fighting with his friends. Is he—”

“It’s his dad,” Angela says. “You can’t, like, say anything to anyone.”

“Angela, I won’t, you know I won’t.” Sharon reaches over and tugs on Angela’s hair. “He told you it was his dad? Like he actually talked to you?”

“Yeah, I mean, I didn’t give him much of a choice I guess. I don’t know.” Angela sits up and shrugs. “He said he’s staying with Tino, but where even does Tino live, like, he just shows up whenever he wants and is where he lives any better than Jordan’s place?”

“So what you’re saying is you’re worried about him?”

Angela groans, grabbing a pillow and shoving her face in it. “Maybe,” she says, voice muffled by the pillow. Lifting her head up, she screws up her face. “My life would be a lot easier if I could stop caring about him.”

Sharon pats Angela’s face. “I know. I know it would. Angela, like, I know you’re still not okay with what he did, but if you’re still this worried about him then—do you want him back?”

“Can we save the hard questions for after the algebra quiz tomorrow?”

“So that’s a yes,” Sharon says, handing Angela’s pencil back to her.

Angela’s about to respond when there’s a knock at the door followed by Rayanne walking in. “Hey, oh—” she pauses, looking between Sharon and Angela. “I can come back, your mom didn’t say that you guys were—”

“It’s fine,” Angela says, pulling her knees up to her chest. “What did you want?”

Rayanna shrugs. “Didn’t have anyone to hang out with,” she says, perching on the edge of the bed gingerly, like she’s scared Angela is going to kick her out. “What’s up with Patty? Hitting the bottle?”

“No,” Angela says. “At least, I don’t think so. Did she seem drunk? I haven’t seen her drinking.”

“Your mom isn’t drinking,” Sharon says. “Trust me, if she was, my mom would know.”

“I guess.”

“So,” Rayanne says, dropping her bag on the floor. “What’re you two talking about?”

“Jordan,” Sharon says instantly before glancing at Angela. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” Rayanne gets up, shaking her head. “I can, like, go if you want to talk about him, I get why you wouldn’t want me—”

“Sit down,” Angela says, waving a hand and shrugging at Rayanne. “It doesn’t—I mean, whatever, right?”

Rayanne stays standing, shifting from foot to foot, before she nods and sits back on the bed. “What’s going on with Jordan? I mean, if you want to tell me.”

“You don’t know?”

“Would I be asking if I knew?”

“No, I just—he said he was staying with Tino, so I kind of assumed—”

“Wait, wait.” Rayanne holds her hand up. “Why is Jordan staying with _Tino_? Even Tino doesn’t stay there most nights.”

“He—” Angela shakes her head. “Wait, this doesn’t make any sense. Jordan said he was staying there, why would he lie?” She watches as Sharon and Rayanne exchange a glance. “What?”

Sharon hitches a shoulder up. “Maybe he didn’t want to tell you the truth, like, maybe he’s ashamed.”

“He told me his dad was hitting him, why would he lie about where he’s staying?”

“Did he volunteer, or did you make him tell you?” Rayanne asks. “Because those are two totally different things.”

“He had a black eye,” Angela exclaims. “What was I meant to do?” She hugs the pillow close to her chest. “Where do you think he’s staying? The warehouse?”

Rayanne shakes her head. “Someone’s bought the place, security everywhere, no way he’s managed to sneak in.” Pausing for a moment, Rayanne picks at a thread on her shirt. “You think—his car?”

They’re all quiet as they contemplate that, and there’s a sinking feeling in Angela’s gut as she realises that Rayanne has got to be right; Jordan doesn’t have anywhere else to go but his car if he’s not staying with Tino.

*

Jordan isn’t in school the rest of the week.

*

It’s Saturday before Angela sees Jordan again; she’s in the store with her mom and Danielle when she sees him at the end of an aisle looking at apples. He looks around before slipping one into his pocket and Angela bites her lip, wondering if she should offer to invite him to dinner or something. Not that, like, her mom would even probably let her, and Jordan wouldn’t accept, most likely, but just knowing that he’s stealing food makes something inside her shatter. Telling her mom she’ll meet them at the checkout, Angela walks towards Jordan.

“Hey,” she says, sticking her hands in her pockets. “You haven’t been in school.”

“Doubt anyone noticed.”

“I did.”

“Yeah.” Jordan looks at her. “What do you want, Angela?”

“Are you sleeping in your car?” Angela blurts out before she can stop herself. “Sorry, I know it’s not my business and you, like, don’t want me knowing anything about your life, but you can’t sleep in your car. Rickie got help, you could—”

“I don’t need help,” Jordan interrupts. “I was doin’ fine before I ever even spoke to you, I don’t need you to do anything.”

“Oh.” Angela takes a step back. “Okay, I guess I’ll—sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Angela, wait—” Jordan grabs her arm, but lets go when she shoots him a look. “Sorry,” he says, holding his hands up. “I didn’t—I don’t get why you care.”

“I told you, you don’t stop caring about someone just because they hurt you. You have friends, like, actual friends who will help you. You don’t need to throw your life away.”

“You want to help me?”

“That so strange?” Angela asks. Jordan smiles, just a small quirk of his mouth, and in that split second Angela’s reminded of all the reasons she wanted to be with him in the first place. “Look,” she says, her heart pounding against her chest. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re sleeping in your car, but if you need somewhere to stay tonight, then, like, come over. I’ll be in the kitchen at midnight, mom never stays awake past eleven lately.”

“Angela—”

“Or don’t, whatever,” Angela cuts off whatever Jordan was going to say. “It’s fine, but if you need somewhere to stay, then my bedroom floor is better than your car, okay?” Looking over her shoulder, she spots Danielle making a face at her. “I gotta go,” she says. “Think about it?”

Angela’s halfway up the aisle before she realises what she’s done, and when her mom asks her what’s wrong, it’s all she can do not to blurt out that she’s invited Jordan Catalano to stay in her room because what the hell is wrong with her.

She just shouldn’t be allowed out amongst people, like, ever.

*

The closer it gets to midnight, the more Angela feels tied up in knots; she listens to her mom go to bed, alone, because her dad is staying at a hotel near the restaurant again instead of coming home, and she sits in bed way too awake than she should be, even if she is technically waiting for Jordan. She wonders if Jordan’s going to be hungry, if he’s stealing food then he probably will be, and maybe she should make him something to eat. That is, if he comes over, there’s no guarantee that he will, and then what? She’ll have made food in the middle of the night for no real reason, and that’ll just look so weird to her mom tomorrow.

The whole thing is just odd, all of it, and it’s her own fault for even having this idea; she doesn’t know where it came from, or why she ended up saying it to Jordan. Like, if she just thought it in her head, then that would be one thing, but the fact she actually said it to him, as if Jordan coming to her house and sleeping in her room is something that happens in real life is beyond ridiculous.

The clock on her bedside table is telling her it’s 11:45, and she stares up at the ceiling for a moment before kicking her blanket off and getting out of bed. She’s not convinced that Jordan’s going to actually come, but she may as well go downstairs and, like, see if that’s the case.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, and Angela’s convinced that any movement she makes is going to wake her mom up; she really should’ve thought this through before offering up her bedroom to Jordan. She wonders if she should be wearing something different, but like, she’s going to be going to sleep so she’s not going to dress like a Victorian maiden or something. Running her fingers along the counter, Angela’s suddenly startled by the light knock at the door, and she takes a deep breath before letting it out and opening the door.

“Hi,” she says quietly.

Jordan looks nervous, like he didn’t expect to be let in and—well. That makes sense, she guesses. Stepping back, she waves a hand, and he walks in, a bag slung over his shoulder that Angela would bet has all he was able to salvage from his house before leaving.

“Uh, are you hungry, or—”

“No,” he says quickly, keeping his voice low. “I ate.”

“Okay. Okay then, uh, come upstairs.” It’s so weird how he follows her up the stairs, and Angela has to stop herself from turning around to look at him to make sure he’s actually there; Jordan Catalano in her house is the strangest thing that’s happened to her in years, and that’s even without the fact that they’re sneaking around behind her family’s back. Not that, like, they’re doing anything. It’s not like that, and truly, Angela doesn’t know if she even wants it to be like that again. Jordan will always be Jordan, and she’s always going to have some kind of feelings for him, but—ugh. Whatever.

Pushing the door to her bedroom open, Angela lets Jordan walk in, and follows him inside, softly closing the door behind her. Jordan both looks out of place and totally familiar in her room, and Angela has no idea how to feel about that. To distract herself, she pulls down blankets and pillows from the shelf in her wardrobe, handing them over to Jordan. “I can’t, like, get the blow up mattress or anything, but these should be kind of comfortable.”

“Thanks,” Jordan says. “Can I—I don’t want to sleep in my jeans.”

“Oh. Oh yeah, yes, sure.” Angela sits on the opposite side of her bed, her back to Jordan. “Let me know when you’re done.”

There’s a slight hesitation, but then in the silence of her room, Angela hears the distinct sound of Jordan dropping his pants and she squeezes her eyes shut until Jordan clears his throat and says he’s done. When she turns around, Jordan’s sitting on the floor, the blankets bunched around him; he’s wearing an old faded black t-shirt, his hair falling over his face, and he looks so uncomfortable that Angela wants to do something, anything, to make him feel better.

Getting off the bed, Angela switches the overhead light off and locks her bedroom door in the vain hope of buying some time if her mom or Danielle try and come in. Pausing by her bed, Angela looks down at Jordan. “Are you sure you’re okay down there?”

“Yeah,” Jordan says, the soft shift of the blankets loud in her room as he rolls onto his side. “I’m good.”

Angela nods and climbs into her bed, slipping under the blankets. After a moment, she turns on her side and moves closer to the edge of the bed; staring at the lump of shadows that she knows is Jordan, she swallows. “How’s your eye?”

“Better,” he whispers. “I can still see. Had a friend who got hit, never saw okay again after that.”

Angela reaches her hand down, fingers brushing over Jordan’s face; the tips of her fingers stroke over his lips and there’s the barest hint of a kiss against them that makes her stomach flip in a way it hasn’t since before everything happened. She knows he’s watching her, the same way she’s watching him, but there’s something about the darkness of the room that makes this feel safe, that makes Angela think they can have this, even if just for a moment.

Jordan’s hand comes up and grabs hers, linking their fingers together, and she lets him, because if he needs something to hold onto right now then maybe, possibly, she can be that for him. Angela doesn’t know if she’s enough, or if she can even be that person for more than tonight, but it’s what she can do right now.

“Good night,” Jordan says quietly, as if he’s scared to break the silence that’s fallen between them, squeezing Angela’s hand before letting go. “Thanks for, like. Everything.”

Drawing her hand back up, Angela rolls onto her back and stares up at the ceiling, listening to Jordan’s breathing. It takes almost no time at all before he’s asleep, and she wonders how little he’s been sleeping that he’s just dropped like that. Like, Angela knows her life would be so much easier if she were able to switch off whatever feelings she has for Jordan, but she’s starting to wonder if easy is even an option for her anymore. She could’ve left Jordan alone, could’ve ignored Rayanne after they finished the English assignment, but she didn’t want to, couldn’t see her life without them in it and so—so maybe that’s just how it’s going to be. On the verge of sleep in the dark, knowing Jordan’s next to her and safe for now, Angela can’t bring herself to be upset about that.


End file.
